Red Rose Cafe
by Traditional.Rose
Summary: Edward/Bella, Fluff/Smut. All Human. Bella moves to Dublin to become a Nanny. Her job sucks but she finds a way to escape with the beautiful, well read, green-eyed boy who works at the Red Rose Cafe.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there!**

**I know I've been AWOL for a while but here I am with a new story. This one is actually set loosely on my own life as I've just moved to Dublin to become a Nanny for a year. I don't know a soul in the city so what do I do? Go out and make friends? Nooo – I go write a FanFiction based on my own experiences. It gives me something to do and also a way to live out my Edward fantasies. **

**This story is going to be heavy E/B. Stick with me through this chapter – I have to set up the story.**

**Let me know what you all think! I've missed you guys so much! I hope you like it.**

**Traditional Rose xx**

xx

"One ninety-five." I say, slamming my bus card down on the pad. The barcode is scanned and I hear the beeping conformation as the driver nods his head in my general direction.

I sling my bag higher up on my shoulder as I squeeze past an old ladies walker. I barely make it to the first step before the bus lurches forward, causing me to press my body against the wall to prevent falling. Waiting a few seconds to adjust to the buses rocking motion, I climb to the top deck and dump my bag on a seat.

My fingers tuck a curl back behind my ear as my teeth inadvertently work at my bottom lip.

Not for the first time I wonder what, exactly, am I _fucking doing_?

This has got to be chalked up as the biggest cock-up of my young life. And I have done some not-so-stellar things in my nineteen years. But no. No, no, no. Moving to a new job, new city, _new country_ without any forethought has got to take First Place.

Of course I had had some forethought. Just nothing beyond Working Visas, lining up a seemingly decent job and packing lots of socks.

But I'm here now. In Dublin. A grin breaks out fleetingly across my mouth – giving my bottom lip needed respite. Despite the awful feeling in my stomach and the growing sense of horror, I keep it there.

_Dublin. I did it._

…_.Now what?_

_Fuck._

xx

The fifteen minute ride into the CBD gives me time I need to think. And freak.

I had spent last year trying to figure out exactly what I wanted to do with my adult life. Most of my friends went straight to University after graduation. While I'd been working, I had a front row seat to their complaining, bitching, stressing and crises. I had only intended to have twelve months off to save for school before enrolling. But after my seventh friend changed their degree and third friend dropped out, I thought I might need to reevaluate.

I knew I wanted to go to University. I even had a general idea on what I wanted to study. But then, so did they. And if I was going to spend all that money and still end up in debt at the end, I wanted to be damn sure on my degree before I began. So I decided to take yet another year off.

And it was partially due to those complaining, bitching, stressed out friends – the same friends that I'd had since I was ten – that I decided on a new local. I had always had a bit of an obsession with Ireland. The history, the politics, the passion. The food, the drinking, the music. And oh yes, the accents. And I love Dublin; majority of the population is under 35 with the second most spoken language being Mandarin. Diverse, intelligent, cultured. With multiple pubs and bookshops on every street. What's not to love?

I'd just been staring at the world map hanging on my wall, listening to music late one night. A friend was texting me about yet another one of her break-ups and I just thought… _No_. Maybe I should have just gotten a new job or maybe some new friends. But no – I've never done things by halves. New country it was.

So all the money that I'd been saving for Uni turned into a Travel Allowance, and two weeks later I had a Visa. My mother was more than a little shocked. My darling, confused mother. Her only daughter packing up and moving across the globe. The only thing I could offer as assurance was the stable job/accommodation I had lined up.

Nanny. A live-in Nanny position where I take care of two little girls for nine hours a day. I got my own room, got to eat their food, use their internet, appliances, and still got a salary.

Not a bad gig….

Well. That's what I'd thought when I read the profile provided by the agency.

_Married couple, early thirties, require a loving, mature-minded Nanny for our darling girls… Three and one years old… Own room provided… Parents work fulltime in the Bank Of Ireland… Duties include caring for the girls; cleaning, cooking, washing, play dates…_

So I'd gotten on the plane and looked for a card with my name at the airport in Ireland. Bella Swan. The woman who was holding it looked exhausted. Short, frizzy hair, stain on her jumper.

"Bella?" She'd asked as I walked up, pulling my suitcase behind me.

I nodded. After a thirty hour trip I definitely wasn't at my perkiest.

"Oh thank god," She gave me a really blatant once-over. "We have to hurry back. The neighbors are minding the girls. Come on. I'm Jessica by the way."

_Nice to meet you too_, I thought.

I really, really had tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she was having a bad day. Maybe she had to fight some jerk for a car park when coming to collect me. Maybe the kids had been really shitty all morning… Wait, what if the kids were just really shitty?

I tried to quell my nervousness as I stuffed my bag into the back of her car. As soon as she'd navigated out of the parking lot and onto the highway, Jessica launched into a detailed day-by-by timetable of the girls routine. And when I say detailed, I mean detailed to the minute.

"Mike will usually get the girls up and you're to be on the bottom step by 0715 to take over. Get the girls dressed and eating their breakfast by 0730. We don't let them have any sugars, sodium or processed food. They usually have porridge for breakfast so you'll need to weigh out the correct amount. It's very important to ensure that they eat all of their breakfast. On some mornings, particularly when it rains, they can be a little cranky and not want to eat…" _Particularly when it rains? We're in Ireland! Doesn't it rain like, every day? _ 'You need to do a nappy change for Abbey at 0815 and then take both girls for a walk. There's a large park near our home and you're free to take whatever route you'd like, just make sure you stick to the actual paths…"

I tuned out. I had just gone through three airports, a lot of bad food, people with hygiene issues, bag collection and customs. It wasn't my fault at all. I managed to smile and nod along for most of her explanation but I think she caught on to my drifting towards the end.

"It all sounds great." I tried to reassure her even though a military-like schedule wasn't exactly sound great for me, let alone for two small children. "I think I might have to write it all down though. At least until I get into the rhythm you know?"

Jessica glanced over at me as she paused at the traffic lights. "Well of course. We have a timetable printed out and stuck to the back of your door."

_Oh swell._

xx

We'd pulled up to an adorable modest townhouse in a suburb of South Dublin. It had a wrought iron gate opening into a little green garden with dozens of dainty flowers sprouting from flower boxes in the windows. It was three stories, grey brick and exactly what I'd pictured. I couldn't help my smile.

I carried my own bag from the car and up the two flights of stairs to my room. It was tiny. Like _tiny_. And I'd been mentally preparing myself for the shortage of room that most European houses had. There wasn't enough room for me to open my suitcase up fully so I had to haul it onto my bed.

"This used to be Tirana's' room when she was a baby. Now the girls share the bigger room and we converted this into the Nanny's' room. They're right across the hall for quick access. You have a Baby Phone plugged in next to your bed as well. Apart from that you have your own tv, cupboard, bed, bookcase, desk. You'll share a bathroom with the girls. Mike and I have a bedroom and the floor below so you know, we're able to have decent sleeping hours. Taylor usually sleeps through but Abbey can be up at all hours."

I stop taking off my shoe as she's speaking. I didn't realize I would be required to take care of the girls at night. I knew Taylor was three but Abbey was eleven months. Didn't that mean she woke multiple times during the night? Or was it just once for a feed? Did I have to get up every time with her?

Jessica either didn't notice my expression or chose to ignore it. Then she displayed the first bit of consideration I'd seen in an hour, saying how I would probably like to unpack and rest. She said she was going back to the neighbors for dinner and would be back later.

I didn't bother with unpacking. I just grabbed a fresh pair of sweats from my bag and searched for the bathroom.

After a scalding hot shower, I brushed my teeth and ran a brush through my hair a few times. Thinking I had the place to myself I ventured to the bottom floor in search of the kitchen. I was opening cupboards, looking for a cup when a noise startled me from behind.

"Shit! Sorry!" An older, blonde guy in a suit was standing by the door. "I didn't mean to scare you. I didn't realize anyone was home."

I nodded, my hand going to my chest in a desperate attempt to calm my heartbeat. "Its ok. Me neither."

Blonde guy smiled. "I just got home. You must be the new Nanny..?"

I blushed, feeling stupid. "Yeah, I am. Um, I'm Bella."

"Ah Bella." He smiled again. He gave a more subtle once-over than his wife. But I still noticed and I was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that I had just thrown on a tank top without a bra. "I was hoping Jess would choose you after reading your profile. I'm glad she took my advice for once."

I smiled softly, not quite sure how I was supposed to respond.

"I'm Mike by the way." Blonde guy - Mike, came forward and offered his hand. I shook it. He was wearing a grey suit, his tie loosened around his neck. He wasn't bad looking at all. Early thirties, tall-ish. Maybe a little soft around the edges. No wedding ring.

There was an awkward pause. My eyes drifted back to my surroundings. The kitchen was nice. Lots of finger paintings decorating the fridge, a highchair and a big table filling the centre. A family kitchen.

I felt Mikes eyes on me still and forced myself to speak. "Um… I was just looking for a glass?"

"Oh! There's just here," Mike moved to the side, towards a set of shelves above the stove. He reached up and grabbed me a cup.

"Thanks," I said, taking it.

"Hasn't Jess showed you around?" He asked.

"Um no." I answered. "I only really just got here. She showed me my room but then she said something about the neighbors and dinner…"

"So she's abandoned you on your first afternoon," Mike shook his head, part of his fringe falling across his forehead. "Would you like me to give you a tour now?"

"Oh no, that's ok. I'm actually completely beat. Would you guys mind if I took a nap?" I asked.

Mike laughed. "Of course not Bella. Tomorrow is the weekend anyway so both of us will be home. You can get to know the girls and the place then. You should just relax this afternoon."

"Thanks." I said, turning the tap on and filling my glass.

"We have cold, bottled water in the fridge if you prefer," he motioned to the metallic fridge on the far side of the kitchen.

"No, no, its ok. Tap water is fine. I'm nothing special," I assured him.

He laughed again. "Oh I wouldn't say that." I had my back to him as I turned off the tap so I couldn't see his expression. "Well, I suppose I better go next door and see what the family are doing. I'll see you soon Bella."

I nodded as he turned and walked back out. Waiting a few seconds after I heard the front door close, I grabbed my drink and climbed the stairs back to my room.

I shut the blinds, closed the door and managed to lean my bag between my bed and the heater. Downing my drink, I then collapsed onto the bed.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Crazy work timetable. Tiny room. Self-interested female boss. And Mike… Well he was friendlier certainly. But… I don't know. He seemed kind of off… Shit. Was this a mistake?

Come on Swan. You're exhausted. Of course you're being a bit precious. The timetable – well it _is_ a job. And the pay is good. The room is tiny but you don't have to stay in it all the time. Maybe Jessica wasn't self-interested. I only really had an hour with her and she could have been having an off day. And Mike probably was just being friendly.

The weekend is tomorrow and you can get to know the kids and the parents a bit better.

Things will look better in the morning.

Give it forty-eight hours and then freak out.

xx

Well, it was forty-eight hours later now. The Sunday afternoon after what has got to be the worst weekend I've endured in some time.

So I escaped. And I caught the bus into town. I just needed to think and see whether or not I was ready to throw in the towel and book a flight home.

The rain had started during the journey, which was fine as it suited my mood perfectly. I was exhausted too, which didn't help. My body has yet to adjust to the new time zone. That, mixed in with the stress and the complete awkwardness of the past two days had me realizing I needed to find somewhere to sit down to have to my big Freak Out.

I hadn't even been paying attention to where I walked as I got off the bus. But I spotted the word Café above a door so I made my way over. The Red Rose Café. _Sounds sweet_, I thought absentmindedly as I shook the rain off my coat. _I could use some sweet._

**Ta-Da! I know – I did warn you this chapter would be dull. But Edward makes his appearance next chapter. There will be lots of fluff and smut I believe in the future, so bare with me.**

**Update soon. Fare the well lovelies!**


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing I noticed about the Red Rose café was that it was so not a café. Well at least not like the cafés of my experience or description. If anything it was more like a pub. Dark wooden floors that stretched half way up the wall to be met by old-fashioned wall paper. Cool green paper with burnt golden ferns scattered the paper with a few, tiny red roses on the ends. Maybe it wasn't old-fashioned, maybe it actually was just old. Like most things in Ireland, I really couldn't tell what was authentic and what had been designed to fit the style. Tables and massive wine-barrels were situated seemingly randomly around the room. There were _three_ different bars, two on opposing walls and one I could half see through a door leading further in. But not one person to man any of them. Shit. I glanced back around the room, the tables didn't have chairs with them. The lights weren't even on. The place wasn't open.

I swung back around and was pulling the heavy door open when I heard footsteps. I glanced to the back of the room and could see the bottom of a set of stairs. And a shadow on them. I had barely begun to resume pulling the door when I heard a voice.

"Hello?"

I froze. I should just walk out – they clearly weren't open.

The footsteps got louder and then I recognized the different sound signaling the person landing on the floorboards.

"You right there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Didn't realize you were closed," I replied with my back still turned. I had the door open but the rain had whipped itself into a mini storm during my minute absence. The cold rain and wind felt like it had slapped my skin and I gasped instinctively.

"We're not closed," The voice said, coming closer. "You can't go out in that. Its pissing rain!"

I stepped back from the lashing wind and let the door close, my face already dripping. I wiped my eyes and half-turned. When I saw the owner of the voice, I wanted to wipe my eyes again. Or at least check out the window and make sure I hadn't been magically transported to Kansas. The voice was gorgeous. A man, tall, lean with ruffled reddish hair. Even in the dim light, I could make out two large green eyes.

I could not stop my reaction. I laughed. Could I find a more stereotypical Irishman?!

Irishman gave me a confused look and raised one eyebrow. "Too late. It seems its washed away your sense."

Which of course led me to laugh again. He had the classic Dublin street accent – the kind you had to squint to understand first off.

"Sorry," I giggled.

Irishman observed me a second longer before shrugging as though giggling, drenched people were common occurrence. "We're not closed," he said again.

There was an awkward beat.

"Oh," I said. I quickly glanced around the empty room.

"We're not very busy today. Most wouldn't shirk the rain when it's said to be a storm on the way," he continued. "We've tables and service upstairs." He motioned with his head in a king of nod towards the ceiling. He had a strong, defined jaw line.

I nodded, mute and stupid. And wet.

A slow grin spread across his mouth. It made him look a lot younger. "You coming?"

A few minutes later I was seated at yet another bar, this one upstairs. This room was very similar to downstairs but a lot brighter, with windows making up one wall. Despite the rain – which I could see definitely had storm potential – it gave great light to the place. Despite Irishman's statement that the café wasn't closed, there was no one else up here. At least the tables had chairs and settings on them.

"What are you having?" Irishman spoke from behind the bar. He must have caught my dubious glance around me. "I promise we're open. I'd show you the opening hours but they're printed on the door outside."

My earlier fit of giggles having deserted me, I was once again shy. "Um… Coffee?"

"Irish coffee?" He flashed me another stellar grin.

"Latte?"

He chuckled, "Sure."

I unwound the scarf from my neck as the coffee machine fired up. I relaxed to the sounds of the milk frothing. I didn't have to say anything with that noise going on and Irishman concentrating on making my drink.

Too soon he finished, presenting the latte to me. It was massive. The mug looked more like a bowl and the milk froth was designed in the shape of a rose. "Nice," I said, before I could stop myself.

Irishman nodded as he wiped down the bar. "Kinda a given." I assumed he was referring to the name of the place.

I looked around again. While this room had tables made up with glasses, plates, knives and forks it still looked like a pub. There were massive booths with cushions that looked like they'd suck me in. And old fashioned oil-burner lamps were centered on the tables. There were photo frames, currency and posters stuck to the walls. Even a few book shelves way in the back.

I felt awkward. Clearly I had interrupted Irishman. He'd had no customers before and was probably enjoying the break. Having worked as a waitress before, I knew that a quiet day could be a blessing to get caught up on some homework or reading. Conscious that he was probably waiting for me to leave, I reached for my mug/bowl. It was absolutely delicious. Hot and creamy. I rested my hands around the mug, trying to steal its heat.

I made eye-contact with Irishman and felt compelled to speak.

"What's Irish coffee?" As usual, I said the first thing that popped into my mind.

Irishman let out a loud laugh. It made his chest rumble. I frowned, confused.

"What is Irish Coffee? Irish coffee is a shot of coffee with a shot of whiskey."

Of course it was.

"It warms the cockles. Especially on a day like today." Again, he motioned his chin in the direction of the windows and the rain. I noticed his strong jaw line for a second time. In the light I could see that it was covered in stubble.

I took another gulp of my coffee. "Seems a strange thing to serve in a café."

Irishman's expression turned confused for a second before he shook his head. "Ah you mean the name? The Red Rose Café? We're not an actual café." He said the last sentence kind of slowly, like he was speaking to a young child. Like it was obvious.

"You're a pub." I tried to say this with confidence though I wasn't even sure that was right.

He nodded, leaning against the back of the bar, folding his hands loosely across his chest. "The reference is a little obscure I'll admit. I don't suppose you know who The Fureys are?"

I shook my head, embarrassed at my further lack of knowledge. He smiled at me though. "Absolutely no one does. But my Ma and Da refuse to change the name. I suppose by now there's no point now. Though I'm guessing we're more famous than they ever were." Irishman seemed to realize that I still had no idea what he was going on about so he quickly elaborated. "They're a band. Or were. A few decades back."

I absolutely loved his accent, which wasn't surprising. I loved everyone's accent over here. But his voice was dark and deep. I wanted to hear it again. "Never heard of them."

It worked. "They didn't reach any real fame, only in Dublin. One of their more famous songs is about The Red Rose Café."

"So there's another one? The original Red Rose Café?" I asked.

Irishman shook his head, which redistributed his ruffled hair over his brow. "My parents first date was to a Fureys concert. My Ma loves them. When she and Da came into the city for the day they searched everywhere for the place. This is before Google Maps of course. Then someone tells them there no café. Its just a lyric. So when they bought this place, they named it after the song." He ended with a little self-conscious shrug.

"That's so sweet," I smiled. He smiled back, seemingly relieved.

"It's a bit confusing – families and couples come in here of a night, thinking this is their haven in a city full of pubs but then find that this place is more oft than not filled with drunken renditions of the Pogues greatest hits." I laugh a little at that. "Ah so _them_ you've heard of. Where are you from anyway?"

I don't know what happens – probably an unconscious reaction to the first person being genuinely nice to me in days. But it comes out. I tell him that I'm from Sydney, Australia and that I moved here to be a nanny. Of course my version is a lot longer than that, with descriptions that I really should've edited out. He was clearly only asking out of politeness. Maybe he's slipped some alcohol in my drink for the in-depth answer I give him.

But Irishman is apparently also a gentleman. He listens to my ramble without complaint and even asks questions once I'm done.

"You're from Australia? Really?" His green eyes have a spark of boyish enthusiasm. Then he frowns. "Why on earth would you leave Australia for Ireland? You do know that it rains about 85% of the time right?"

I wince. I don't like being reminded of the one thing I don't enjoy about Ireland. I always was, and always will be a Sun kind of girl. "Yeah… But you guys have history. And castles. And artists. And writers."

He snorts. "You were inspired to move here after reading Ulysses?"

I blush. "Le Fanu actually," I murmur.

Now Irishman frowns. "You know Le Fanu?" I nod. "I didn't know that anyone under sixty even knew that guy's name."

"So that would make you about sixty-eight then?" In defense of one of my favorite authors, my reply comes out harsher than I intended.

Irishman barks out a laugh and pushes himself off the wall, coming to lean close to me over the bench. "Perhaps." He's so close now I can see the dark lashes that frame his eyes. "So then, is the Dublin of Le Fanu living up to your expectations?"

I fidget in my seat. "Its… beautiful," I manage to answer.

"But?" He prompts.

"It really _is_ gorgeous," I reassert firmly. Irishman's eyes are locked to me and he nods. His expression seems charged and I'm not sure what's happened so I go on. "I do love it here but – I don't know. Its probably just teething problems. I'm still settling in and all that."

"How long have you been in our fair city?"

I scrunch up my face for the mental equation. "About… sixty… eight hours."

Now Irishman is looking shocked. "Not even three days! Wow."

I don't know what to reply so I take another sip of my drink.

"Do you have family and friends over here then?" Irishman asks.

"I don't know anyone. Except the people I work for." I answer.

"Really? You moved to the other side of the world and don't know a soul. That's very brave."

"Or very stupid," I counter.

"No – no. I think its brilliant. It's the ultimate fresh start. Clean slate."

I nod. A fresh start does sound good. A chance to reinvent myself and be anyone I want, without any history holding me back. But it also means I don't have any friends or support. While my friends back home may be annoying; they knew me. Knew my fears, my moods, my favorite foods. And my mum – my heart gives a slight pull at her being so far away. Right now, Stupid seems a better adjective than Brave.

"And now you know one more person," Irishman holds out his hand. "I'm Cullen."

xx

**Ahhhhh! Hello there everyone! I am so disgusted that its taken me this long to update. But in my defense – new country! And I've taken to it a bit easier than I expected. Going out a lot and having lots of experiences that I intend to turn into chapters; stalkers, body shots and haunted scares!**

**But I have a routine now and I fully intend to write every day when the girls are napping. So hopefully updates three/four times a week!**

**Does anyone want EPOV? I was thinking of going one for one but I can make it all BPOV if you prefer.**

**I miss you guys. Traditional Rose xx**


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